Lost Between Pages
by Lillielle
Summary: Disclaimer: I own nothing. Drabble/oneshot collection for the Fic Exchange of Epic Proportions. All pairings/prompts/warnings marked individually. Chapter 1: Bellatrix/Voldemort.
1. Fragile

_A/N: for __**Cheeky Slytherin Lass**_

_Pairing: Bellatrix/Voldemort_

_Prompts: "Some people just want to watch the world burn." -Donnie Darko, bruises, fragile, silk, careless whispers _

_Rating: M, some smutty and dark themes_

She is only fragile when he wants her to be.

The others snicker behind her back, whisper in ghost's voices what a harlot she must be. The Dark Lord's whore. She bears the epithet with pride. He has chosen her. Can any of them say the same? When she catches them, pointing, laughing, gossip twisting their faces, her wand tip prods them between the clavicles, as she whispers _Crucio_ with loving sweetness.

"My Bellatrix," he hisses behind her and she whirls, in a flurry of black silk skirts, to see him there, his hand cupping her jaw, fingers tightening around her throat. The bruises stand out like a brand, and she thrills to it.

"My Lord," she whispers back, as he takes her to bed. He is never gentle, but somehow, being pounded into the bed or against the wall until she's lightheaded and the bruises stain her hips like bird's wings is more than she can possibly imagine.

_I love you,_ she thinks, but never speaks. She knows he can read it in her thoughts, she always leaves her mind bare to him. But he never speaks of it, and truthfully, she'd never want him to.

When the bedroom door closes behind them, she is herself again. Crazed, dark eyes glittering with madness and power, her wand flashing with his commands. Bellatrix Lestrange, the Dark Lord's second-in-command. She can break anyone, the Imperius Curse and Cruciatus curse wreathing together in a lacy, impenetrable fog. The others fear her, curse her as quietly as they dare, but she cares nothing for them.

She has her Lord, and she is content. May all the others burn.


	2. Seafoam in Memory

_A/N: For __**Eternally Seventeen. **__(See? It's Jily! I hope you like! :D )_

_Pairing: James/Lily._

_Prompts: bouquets and wreaths_

_Rating: T_

_Notes: This is slightly based on a missing character! AU prompt-not long enough for the actual challenge, but I had to run with it. Also AU in regards to other things like Shell Cottage etc._

When she walks into the room at Shell Cottage, she thinks she's been transported into a garden. Flowers clutter every available surface, filling the air with the most heady perfume Lily has ever experienced.

"What is this?" she exclaims, as her husband's arms sneak around her and twirl her in place, up against his chest. He smirks down at her, hazel eyes full of laughter.

"You said you wanted flowers, didn't you?" James says. Lily laughs and thumps his arm.

"I meant like a bouquet! Not a-a houseful!" she chides him, but she can't be truly angry with him. It's such a sweet gesture, especially on the heels of the hospital visit last week. She still doesn't know how to feel about the fact she can't have children, so she pushes it away instead, focusing on the flowers and the sea air wafting in through the opened window and the fact they've got this cottage to themselves for two glorious weeks.

_It will take your mind off things,_ Molly Weasley told Lily with a sympathetic pat on her shoulder, and as Lily helps James bring in the rest of their luggage, now dumped unceremoniously in the parlour for the moment, she has to admit that the motherly redhead is right. It is like they have left everything behind, even the threat of Voldemort, looming ever closer.

After a refreshing dinner, James picks Lily up and carts her out the door, ignoring her shrieks of protest to dump her in the ocean waves. She splutters and shivers and as the sea spray plasters her brilliant red hair to her face, she thinks that this is the definition of happiness. They cavort in the shallows until the sun slips past the horizon, painting the sky above them in brilliant blues and purples, and then James carries Lily back inside, warming her with slow, sweet kisses that make her feel like she has turned to liquid fire.

_Damn the world and damn the war and damn it all,_ Lily thinks later, cuddled close to James in the afterglow, her head resting on his shoulder as he dozes. _I wish I could stay here forever._

But she knows that she can't, and so she sighs and snuggles closer to her husband in the dusk-shrouded silence. If she can't have forever, a moment is good enough.


End file.
